


Birth of Wanheda

by Vaderisbae



Series: Tales of the Commander [1]
Category: Mercy Thompson Series - Patricia Briggs, The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fae, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, BAMF Clarke Griffin, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Child Death, Clarke & Wells broOTP, Clarke Griffin & Wells Jaha Friendship, F/F, Fae Ice Court is all OCs, Fae Magic, Heavy Angst, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Ice Queen is NOT Nia is this, Iceland, Klark instead of Clarke cuz I thought it sounded more like a Viking, Magic, Major character death - Freeform, Mercyverse, My First Fanfic, No Lexa for now but this is kinda a prequel, Original Character(s), Psychological Torture, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, This gets super fucking dark, Torture, Viking Klark, Viking Wells, Vikings, Wanheda Clarke Griffin, does this count as angst?, no betas we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:08:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23555068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vaderisbae/pseuds/Vaderisbae
Summary: Klark Griffin enjoys life in her small Viking village. She is charged with taking care of some village children while her mother helps during a difficult birth. She drags her best friend Wells into helping out. All goes well until a group of Fae break in and kidnap the whole group for their Fae Queen. Can Klark save them all? Can she save herself?ORClarke Griffin is abducted from her Viking village with a bunch of kids and is tormented by sadistic Fae.ORThe story of how Clarke Griffin becomes Wanheda. The prequel to my main fic I'm planning that takes place in a modern urban fantasy setting. If you've ever read the Mercedes Thompson books by Patricia Briggs, it's mostly based on that world.
Relationships: Abby Griffin/Jake Griffin, Artigas & Clarke Griffin, Charlotte & Clarke Griffin, Clarke Griffin & Wells Jaha, Ethan Hardy & Clarke Griffin
Series: Tales of the Commander [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1695346
Comments: 17
Kudos: 150





	1. So It Begins...

**Author's Note:**

> So hey guys! This is my first ever fic, but I've loosely planned a whole series based on this world. I have no beta, so let me know if there's anything I need to change! Also, let me know if this is something you'd want to read more of.

Blue-grey eyes gazed out over the wind-tossed sea, matching the coming storm in intensity.

“Klark? Klark!” a voice calls out from behind her. Klark turns away from the clifftop to see her mother hurrying towards her, long woolen dress dragging through the mud.

“What are you doing? You know you need to be back home before that storm rolls in! I told you this morning that Callie is likely to give birth today and I need you to be home to help me prepare,” her mother chides. “Your father’s ship isn’t going to sail any faster just because you’re wasting time watching for it.”

“Mum, I’ve only been here for a few moments. You make it seem like I haven’t spent the entire day helping you!” Klark shoots back, her eyes snapping with irritation. The wind blows wisps of blonde hair into her face where they’ve escaped her tight braids.

“Excuse me? Get your ass back here or I won’t allow you to go hunting with Wells tomorrow.”

“Ugh, fine.”

Klark takes one last lingering glance towards the water before following her mother back to their humble farm. Her father’s voyage was due back any day now from raiding settlements across the sea. He wasn’t a warrior, but an accomplished engineer responsible for maintaining the village’s longboats. Occasionally he travels with the village warriors to take care of the vessel and work on improvements. The men had already been gone for almost a full moon-cycle and should be returning soon with their spoils. Klark always loved watching the longboats sail home, laden with loot, sails glinting in the sun. She always knew exactly which ship was her father’s by the massive griffin she had painted on the sail twelve seasons ago. She absentmindedly stroked the intricate compass strapped to her wrist as she walked back to her homestead. Her father had fashioned it for Klark’s last birthday from a stone he called “magnetite” and dyed leather straps. He’d engraven the bottom of the compass with runes of protection to keep her safe while he was gone on long journeys. It was the single most important gift Klark possessed.

She entered the small hut where her mother was preparing her midwifery materials for the coming birth.

“Klark, I’m going to need you to watch over the little ones tonight. Young Tris just showed up with a message from Callie’s sister that Calle’s contractions have started. I’m worried that the baby hasn’t settled right for the birth and I’m going to need the other womens’ help,” Abigail turned to face her daughter while her hands were still busy folding clean cloths and storing them in her satchel.

“I thought I was going to help you tonight? I’ve been training with you for two whole seasons now and I’m more than ready for this.”

“Normally I would let you help, but I don’t think this birth will be an easy one. Just go down to the village and gather the kids. Diana has already volunteered her home for the night while she’s assisting me.”

“Alright, can I at least ask Wells to join me so I don’t have to corral those hooligans all by myself?”

“Yes that should be fine. Now hurry!”

Klark ran off down the track leading to Arkeldanik, the village housing most of the nearby families. When she reached the next hut down the track she yelled out to her friend.

“Wells! I’m heading down to the village! Meet me at Diana’s!” Without waiting, she continued running down the track and soon heard footsteps pounding behind her.

“Wait up! What’s all the hurry for?” panted a tall, dark boy as he caught up.

“Wells, my mum said that Callie’s baby is coming and I’m needed to help watch the little ones so the other village women can help her out,” Klark responded, only slightly winded.

They skidded to a stop before a log house near the center of the village and knocked on the door. Diana opened the door to let them in out of the chilly evening air.

Thump. Thump. Klark was nearly bowled over as two somethings collided with her legs.

“Klark! Momma said you was gonna watch us tonight!” squeaked out a small child that was now clinging to her leg.

“Yeah, and she said that you was gonna sit on us if we was mean,” the hanger-on from the other leg piped in.

Chuckling, Clarke bent down to detach the kids before she fell over. The kid to the right was a messy brown-haired, chocolate-eyed boy with abundant energy. The kid attached to her left leg had the same chocolate colored eyes, but her hair was a lighter shade of dirty blonde.

“Okay, okay, okay, you got me Artigus and Charlotte. Your momma is right, at least about the me watching you tonight part. We’ll just have to wait and see about the sitting part,” Klark joked.

She and Wells wandered further inside and sat on the ground next to yet another child who was using a piece of charcoal from the fire to scrawl on some tree bark.

“Whatcha got there, Tris?” Klark asked.

The tiny brunette just shrugged without looking up and kept doodling. Diana followed them over to near Tris and started giving them instructions on what to do for dinner and bedtime.

“Oh and just so you know, Zoran, Ethan and Adria will be coming soon too,” Diana added. “Callie can’t watch her kids right now and her sister will be busy as well.”

“That’s no problem,” Klark said politely before Diana turned and left the house.

“Why do I let you drag me into these things, Klark?” Wells moaned, bringing his hands up to cover his face in mock misery.

“Oh whatever! You know you love wrestling with them just as much as I do,” Klark nudged Wells with her shoulder and he pretended to fall over, much to the delight of the kids.

Within the next little while, the door thumped open and two tussling boys rolled in. Rolling her eyes, Klark separated the boys and set them on their feet.

“What are you boys fighting about this time?” Klark questioned, one eyebrow raised and arms folded.

“Ethan and I were racing to see who was the fastest and I was winning and then Ethan tripped me and he cheated!” the slightly taller boy lisped earnestly. Zoran had been badly injured as a toddler when a spooked horse kicked him in the head. He had mostly recovered, except for a broad scar marring his lower lip and chin and slurring his words.

“I didn’t cheat! Zoran is the cheatingest cheater who ever cheated,” yelled the shorter boy, interrupting his brother and sometimes foe. “He didn’t even tell me we were racing until he was already way ahead!”

Klark just shook her head and grinned at Wells before shooing the boys inside to play with the other kids. Unnoticed in the chaos, a young girl slipped in the door behind the boys and was already playing with her two straw dolls quietly near the fire. Klark headed over and gave Adria a brief hug before fetching another straw doll to join her in playing.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

After dinner and setting all the kids to bed down in a pile of furs, Klark rested near the fire with her own charcoal stick and flattened bark. Wells was posing dramatically with a spare hunting axe as Klark sketched him. The storm had arrived and hail bashed against the timber roof. Wind whipped through the chinks in the walls and brought with it an icy bite. Hail continued to pound on the dirt track sounding like, wait was that…, yes those were hooves thundering up to the house! Unearthly whinnies sounded just outside the house and the door crashed inward, startling the children awake. In the doorway stood a tall, willowy woman with hair like snow and the eyes of a wolf. Her face was smeared with white paint and tailored furs draped her frame. Three other Fae in similar paint and garb invaded the home before Klark could stand and face them. As she scrambled to her feet, Wells chucked the hunting axe at the first Fae who fluidly whipped his hand up to catch it mid-flight. A gruesomely melodious laugh flowed from the first Fae woman at the look of shock on Wells’ and Klark’s faces.

Klark just snarled and burst forward, shoulder impacting the belly of the closest Fae. Her unexpected charge staggered him and she had time to snatch the axe back from his grasp. Backing up, she swung the axe wildly in front of her to deter the Fae from encroaching further.

“Stop!” the wolf-eyed woman demanded as she took another step into the room. “If you continue resisting, I won’t be so kind as to bring you back to my court. I will merely slaughter you here like the swine you are.” Her gaze sharpened on Klark and a sneer appeared across her lips. “You have spirit it seems. That won’t last long where you’re going.” Her bell-chime laugh erupted again as she motioned the Fae forward to subdue the children. Two Fae rushed forward and snagged the six children, quickly securing their hands with flaxen twine that seemed to glow faintly. The remaining two flashed in front of both Klark and Wells. Wells attempted to throw a punch at the Fae’s head, but again the Fae’s hand whipped up and grabbed his fist before it made contact. Just as rapidly, the Fae was behind Wells and holding him in a wrenching shoulder lock. Wells was forced onto his knees and the Fae bashed him in the head until he fell unconscious. The female Fae appraised Klark with scorn as Klark swung the axe towards her head. Without any effort, she deflected the swing and stepped into Klark’s space. They were intimately close, almost nose-to-nose when the female Fae grasped Klark by the throat and squeezed. Klark’s last vision before blacking out was of her best friend and precious wards being carried out into the raging storm.


	2. Icy Queens and Blood Eagles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klark wakes to a raging headache and no idea where she is. She's definitely in for a rude awakening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: There are graphic depictions of violence in this chapter.
> 
> I mean, most of the chapters are gonna have blood and violence and gore. So strap yourselves in and here weeee gooooooo!

Pounding pain was the first thing Klark noticed. Her throat ached and her head felt like it was going to implode. Wincing, she opened one eye and glanced about. There was very little light wherever she was, what light there was played off dirt walls and curling roots poking through the ceiling. The floor was cold and felt like stone. She attempted to move her hands and feet, but they seemed to be bound. She tried to roll over, but encountered something warm and slightly yielding that let out an “Oof.”

“Wells? Wells, is that you?” Klark whispered to the still form behind her.

“Klark?” Wells blurrily replied, sounding dazed. “What happened? Where are we? Where are the kids?” With each question his pitch rose and became more frenzied.

“Wells. Wells, calm down!” Klark shushed him. “I don’t know; all I remember is those Fae bastards bursting in and taking the children.”

The sound of their voices seemed to summon attention. A door creaked open behind her and footsteps approached her. She wriggled until she was facing the newcomer. The wolf-eyed Fae woman crouched down and cocked her head, almost bird-like.

“I’m surprised you are awake so soon. You exhibit strength I would not have guessed.” She seemed pleased by the looks of pain and fear on the teenagers’ faces. “That will not benefit you here, fiesty one. It just means it will take longer for me to break you.” A grotesque smile played across her face, spoiling her ethereal beauty. The light played across inhuman brows and ashen silver skin.

Grabbing her and Wells’ arms, she hauled them to their feet. Calling to a guard, she thrust Wells into the hallway where the guard seized him and began marching down the hall. The Fae woman dragged Klark out of the cell and followed behind. They travelled through a maze of dirt-walled hallways until reaching a pair of massive silver-etched doors. Two guards in front swung the doors open and ushered them into a vast chamber. Ice covered the walls and ceiling in intricate patterns that seemed to ensnare the mind of those who spent too long gazing at them. Silver veins spread through the granite floor and up to a raised dais. Upon it sat a massive frozen throne shot through with more silver veins. An elegant figure perched on the throne, looking down at the teenagers with disdain. The figure seemed to be carved from ice herself. Her skin was icy-blue, the color of glaciers. Her hair flowed white and almost translucent over shoulders adorned with snow-white fox furs. Her face was indistinct, like the patterns on the wall her features seemed to flow and change the longer one looked.

The wolf-eyed Fae dragged Klark to the dais and thrust her down onto her knees. Next to her, the guard did the same with Wells.

“Where are our children? What did you do with them?” demanded Klark, stormy ocean eyes boring into the figure on the throne.

The wolf-eyed Fae clubbed her in the back of the head and Klark saw stars, flaring her previous headache back up. She grabbed Klark’s hair and forced her head back to see the figure on the throne once more.

“And who are you to question me?” the figure intoned. “I am a queen, ruler of Fae, a Power beyond your imagining! Who are you to ask anything of me?” As she spoke, the Queen rose from her throne and stalked closer to Klark. Crouching fluidly in front of her, the Queen grabbed Klark’s chin harshly holding her in place and forcing her to meet her eyes.

“You. are. Nothing.” The Queen flung Klark’s face down into the stone beneath her. Her brow collided with the ground, splitting it open. Blood poured over Klark’s right eye, partially blinding her, and over her cheek, dripping off her chin. “You are my slave, a plaything. And the children, it’s simple, they’re dinner.”

“NO!” Wells raged against the guard holding him down, getting a fist to the stomach for his thrashing. Wells slumped to the floor, coughing and retching.

“You can’t!” screamed Klark, desperate pleading filling her eyes. “Those children are ours! You have to be joking!”

The Queen laughed viciously as she straightened and returned to her throne. Just before she sat, Klark worked up a wad of spit and launched it into the Queen’s face, hitting her square between the eyes. Cold rage froze the Queen’s expression as she wiped the glob from her face. Ice crackled out, spreading from her feet to freeze Klark’s knees to the stone. She flashed back in front of Klark and clutched her throat. Cold like she had never known invaded Klark’s body. Cold, so cold it burned, leached into her throat and down her body. It was as if the blood in her very veins was freezing solid. Ice coated her skin and crawled up her face. She screamed until she tasted blood. Just before she passed out from the pain, the Queen released her.

“Take her back to her cell. Or better yet, take her to your playroom.” The queen spoke to wolf-eyes before turning her back and dismissing them. The guards dragged a struggling Wells away, as Klark passed out once more.

\------------------------------

This time Klark woke to a brightly lit room with her hands securely fastened above her head by the roots dangling from the ceiling. Wolf-eyes, as Klark has decided to call her, leaned up against a dirt wall across from her. Seeing Klark was awake, Wolf-eyes glided forward.

“I told you strength of spirit was a weakness here,” she stated, leaning closer to Klark’s face. “You disrespected the Queen. That’s not something you can get away with. Lucky for me, it means I get a new plaything.” A wicked smile crept onto her lips.

“Wha-what does that mean?” Klark husked, her throat burning and she tasted blood once more.

“Simple. It means that I get to do whatever. I. want.” She punctuated each word with punch, one to the gut, one to the throat, the last to her chin. Klark’s teeth clicked together, narrowly avoiding biting off her own tongue.

Klark just leaned forward and spit a mouthful of blood into Wolf-eyes face. Instead of being disgusted, Wolf-eyes seemed entirely too amused. She let out a peal of laughter and backed off a few paces.

“It has been too long since I’ve had someone this much fun!” She clapped her hands together before turning and walking out the door.

Klark didn't know how long she hung there. She tried wrenching at the roots binding her hands, to no avail. Every time she pulled they tightened until she could no longer feel her fingers. Finally Klark gave up trying. She hung until her shoulders were screaming with pain and she was laboring to breathe. She slumped against her bonds and fought to fill her lungs with air.

After some time, she heard footsteps once more coming down the hallway. Wolf-eyes entered the door holding an earthen cup. She held it up to Klark’s lips and urged her to drink. Klark was far too delirious to question the sudden kindness. The cold liquid coursed past her lips, down her throat, tasting of mold and sour fruit. She spluttered and coughed, trying to reject to nasty drink. Wolf-eyes just pinched Klark’s nose shut and forced her to drink every drop.

“What the fuck was that?!” Klark managed to ask through her coughing.

“It was just a little something to get the real fun started.”

Klark’s vision spun and twisted, colors shifting and warping. She shook her head, trying to clear it. An image began to solidify in front of her. It was her mother! She was leaning over Klark with a wet cloth and calling her name. Klark shot upright. It was a dream! It was all just a dream, she thought with blissful relief.

“Klark, you have to get out of bed,” Abby urged. “It’s your father. They’ve returned home and we need to go see them.”

“Dad? But why? What’s going on?”

“I don’t know. We just have to go now,” Abby replied, wringing her hands and refusing to meet Klark’s eyes.

Klark leapt out of bed and they both set off to the dock to meet the returning warriors. Jaha stepped off the longboat first, followed closely by Pike and the rest. Lastly, a beaten and bloodied Jakob Griffin was yanked off the boat by his bound hands. Klark surged forward, worry radiating from every pore. Two warriors stepped forward and held her arms.

“What is this?” demanded Abby. “Why is my husband being held captive? What in the name of Odin has he done?!”

“Quiet!” roared Jaha. “Jakob has betrayed us! He murdered his fellow warrior! Stabbed him in the back without honor!”

“NO! You’re wrong! My father would never do that!” Klark shot back. “He doesn’t even fight with you! He only comes to care for the ship!”

One of the warriors holding her arms slapped her across the face to silence her. Jaha and the others walked to the two poles set into the middle of the village and tied Jakob to them, each wrist to a pole so he stood spread-eagled between them, shoulders straining in their sockets.

Jaha stood facing the crowd, firelight from lit torches surrounding the square casting shifting shadows across his face.

“This man is guilty of dishonor! He murdered a brother in arms without provocation or just cause! And the punishment for such cowardice is DEATH!” Cheers thundered out from the witnessing warriors even as screams tore from Klark’s mouth.

“I say he is worthy of death by Blood Eagle!” Jaha announced.

“NO! No, you have to be wrong! You can’t do this!” screamed Klark. “Mom, Abby, please! Do something! Why are you just standing there!”

Betrayal and horror washed through Klark as she watched her mother bow her head and turn her back on Jakob. Abby buried her face in the furs of the warrior next to her, a man called Kane. She’s just going to let this happen! She’s not even going to TRY to save dad! Klark thought hopelessly.

The two warriors, Dax and Atom, clung to Klark’s arms, forcing her to watch helplessly at the scene unfolding before her. The crowd chanted rhythmically as Pike circled behind Jakob and stripped off his shirt. He brandished a wickedly sharp dagger and began carving into Jakob’s back. Klark watched her father’s face contort in agony. He tried to contain his screams but failed once Pike severed his back muscles. Pike slid the knife down along his spine, blood spilling out to pool on the dusty earth below. He peeled back the skin to either side to expose writhing muscles as Jakob continued screaming in pain. A warrior stepped up to Pike and handed him a chisel and hammer. Pike set the chisel to the first of the glistening white ribs peeking through bloody muscle. 

CRACK. Pike swung the hammer down, the sound of splintering bone drawing heaving gags from Klark. CRACK. Again, the hammer came down, blood spattering Pike’s face and arms. CRACK. CRACK. CRACK. On and on, the hammer came down again and again. At one point Jakob lost his voice, though the tendons straining in his neck and the veins pulsing in his forehead evidence that the pain was still excruciating. Blood vessels burst in his eyes, turning them an unnatural red to match the gruesome mess of his back. Finally, Pike set the chisel and hammer down, only to reach into Jakob’s back with his bare hands to spread the broken ribs out like hellish wings. Jakob hung limply, barely alive, the agony and blood loss robbing him of consciousness in his last moments. Klark heaved again and again, tears blinding her, but not enough; not enough to prevent the image of her father’s agony from searing itself in her retinas. The image of Pike’s gore-covered hands burying themselves into her still-living father’s ruined body and pulling back, full of the expanding and contracting organs that were her father’s lungs. Jakob’s eyes snapped open one last time, piercing Klark with their pain and grief that she had to bear witness to his torture. With one last slow deflation of his lungs, Jakob died, eyes still fixed on Klark. She blacked out.


	3. Pain and Pleasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klark gets a rude awakening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Torture, blood
> 
> Apparently I have absolutely zero chill, so here's another chapter! As always, let me know if there are any typos or mistakes and I will do my best to fix them. Thanks for reading!

Klark woke suspended from the ceiling, Wolf-eyes watching her slowly come to consciousness. 

“What did you see?” Wolf-eyes questioned, eyes narrowing as she crept closer and examined Klark’s tormented gaze. “Where did you go?”

Klark emitted a broken sob. She heaved, nothing but bile coming up to dribble from her lips. Wolf-eyes jerked back in disgust.

“So messy, you humans,” she sneered, “All of these bodily excretions. Disgusting.”

She slowly circled Klark’s hanging form, trailing a finger through the cold sweat coating her back.

“Wha-wh-who-what…” Klark’s exhausted voice trailed off hoarsely.

“What I gave you was a hallucinogenic of a sort. It causes you to experience your greatest fears. It dredges up the worst thing your brain can possibly imagine and forces you to live through it in excruciating detail. Brilliant, isn’t it?” The amusement in Wolf-eyes voice sickened Klark even further. “So what did you see?”

“I-I s-saw my father..” Klark trailed off as she began to gag again. “They-they murdered him.” Great gasps tore from her lungs and tears welled from her eyes as she remembered the look of utter anguish on her father’s face and the gruesome sight of his skin and ribs forming eagle wings.

“Who did?” Wolf-eyes returned to study Klark’s gaze. “Please, I require...detail.”

“YOU SICK BITCH!! WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS?!”

Wolf-eyes just leaned back and let out a belly-laugh. Peals of laughter shook her body and she wiped fake tears from her tawny eyes.

“I make a study of human pain.” she explained simply. “We Fae don’t experience pain or emotion or feelings as you do. We do feel pain, but it is merely pain of the body. I love no one. I love nothing. I cannot understand what the loss of that love does to a being. So I study it in you humans. So I’ll ask once more, what did you see?”

Klark sealed her lips shut, refusing to give in to the twisted games Wolf-eyes was playing with her.

“Fine. If you refuse to talk, we’ll move on to another form of pain.” Wolf-eyes turned from Klark to a table set against the wall to her right. Klark hadn’t noticed it before, but it seemed to hold instruments designed to create pain. Wolf-eyes brushed her fingers over the tools, caressing some like a lover. She looked back at Klark, scrutinizing her reaction to each one she touched. Klark tried to keep her face stoic, but couldn’t help the flinch when Wolf-eyes reached a particularly nasty tool.

“Ah, this is one of my favorites.” A sadistic grin twisted Wolf-eyes lips as she lifted to instrument off the table. “I received the inspiration from this one from watching a cat play with its food. I like to call it my cat’s paw.”

Wolf-eyes held the tool up for Klark to examine. It looked similar to the iron knuckle devices some warriors from her village liked to use to add punishing power to their punches. It had a silver bar used as a handle. While gripping the handle, three serrated claws extended out from between the fingers, looking aptly like the claws of a cat. The silver metal gleamed in the sourceless light illuminating the room. Wolf-eyes admired the cat’s paw, twisting it before her to watch the light play off the metal. She lightly drew a finger down one of the blades and watched a small bead of grey-green blood well up from the cut. She rested the tip of the paw against Klark’s sternum. Even through the thick wool of her dress, she could feel the cold sting of it. In a quick jerk, Wolf-eyes yanked the paw downward. Klark shrieked as it tore through the tender skin of her stomach. She could feel excruciating pain pulse in three parallel streaks from her ribs to her navel. The warm flow of blood soaked through the torn dress.

Wolf-eyes circled Klark once more, stopping behind her and pressing up against her back. Klark could feel her hot breath caress her ear as Wolf-eyes practically purred in pleasure. Without giving herself time to pause and think, Klark rocked her head forward before slamming it back into Wolf-eyes’ skull. An explosion of pain muffled the satisfying crunch of bone against cartilage as the back of her head met Wolf-eyes’ nose. Instantly, Wolf-eyes staggered back until she hit the wall behind, howling in pain and fury. She rained down blows on Klark’s unprotected head and back, not holding anything back. These blows hit with the force of a charging horse and soon Klark was blissfully unconscious yet again.

\-----------------------------------------

Someone was shaking her, jostling her strained shoulders and throbbing head.

“Klark. Klark, wake up.” She could just make out the concerned whisper of Wells past the haze of her foggy mind.

“Klark!” Her head rocked a little as Wells slapped her firmly across the face.

“The fuuuuuck Wells,” Klark ground out, slowly inching up into a sitting position. She cradled her aching head between her heads. She flinched at the soft touch of hands against her back before relaxing as Wells began to rub soothing circles. “What happened while I was out?”

“I don’t really know,” Wells replied gently, “I was thrown back in here after the throne room fiasco and I guess I just waited for a while until they threw you in. Time seems a little wibbly-wobbly in here. I can’t tell anything without any kind of sunlight to keep me oriented. I let you rest for a bit before waking you. I was scared that you wouldn’t wake up at all if I left you too long.”

“Thanks Wells, I can’t believe you got stuck here with me. If it wasn’t for me dragging you along with me, you would be at home with your father and safe.” The last sentence was a bit muffled by the tears now streaming down her face. Wells scooted closer and enveloped Klark in his arms.

“Shhhhh, it’s okay, Klark. I would rather be here with you than not know where you’d gone and thinking you were dead,” he soothed as he smoothed her hair back and cradled her head against his chest.

Once she had calmed, she slumped back against the cold dirt wall.

“What happened to you, Klark? You were unconscious when they threw you in here, but I couldn’t find any injuries.”

Klark examined her stomach, expecting to see a shredded dress and torn flesh, but there was nothing; not even a thread out of place. She ran her hands over her head looking for lumps that surely must be there.

“I-I don’t know. I thought-I was-that wolf-eyed lady gave me something, some kind of potion that made me hallucinate. Oh Wells, it was awful-” her voice broke just thinking about the brutal execution she witnessed her father go through, or at least she thought she had witnessed it. Piece by piece, she explained the torture she had gone through at Wolf-eyes hands. She left out the gruesome description of the Blood Eagle, but told Wells everything else. Once she had reached the end of her recounting, she and Wells curled together on the cold stone floor and fell asleep from sheer exhaustion.


	4. Hounds of Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klark continues to refuse to submit to Wolf-eyes torture. Her defiance costs her everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: blood, death, violence
> 
> Thank you to everyone reading this! And please don't murder me for what's about to happen :/

Days seemed to pass in the same endless cycle. Wake up, be dragged to Wolf-eyes’ torture chamber, be forced to ingest the horrid potion, suffer through every agony her mind could concoct, refuse to tell Wolf-eyes, be physical tortured til she passed out, wake up in her cell without a mark, and fall asleep huddled up with Wells.

She thought that the vision of her father suffering through the Blood Eagle was the worst thing she could experience, but was quickly proved wrong. Through the hallucinogenic potion she watched both parents suffer the Blood Eagle, then she watched as her father did it to her mother and her mother returned the favor. The worst was when she mutilated them herself. Nightmares tormented her sleep; the feel of tacky blood on her hands and arms and face, the visceral _crunch_ as the chisel shattered the bones of her parents’ ribs, the wrenching sucking sound of their lungs being plucked from their chests by her own hands. She remembered the feel of lungs inflating and deflating in her palms. Just the thought of it had her prone and retching.

And then were the visions she had of Wells being tortured in her place. She would be frozen in place as Wolf-eyes dragged the cruel cat’s paw down his chest, she could hear the sickening _riiip_ as it parted flesh. She heard him scream until he coughed blood. She watched Wolf-eyes brand him torches and drip acid onto skin. And sometimes he would be screaming at her, begging her to stop it, cry out that it was all _her_ fault.

She watched Adria, Ethan, Zoran, Tris, Artigas, and Charlotte be slaughtered like pigs; bled and hung from hooks like so much meat; spitted and turned over a fire before being feasted upon by Wolf-eyes and the Queen and her court.

Slowly the threads holding her to reality snapped, one-by-one. It was too much. There was too much pain, too much for her to bear. She began to forget details from her life.She could no longer remember the smell of the sea breeze or the feel of sunlight on her skin. The soft lines crinkling around her father's eyes when he smiled were supplanted by the deep furrows gouged in his face as he howled in agony. The warmth of her mother's hugs were replaced by the bone-deep cold of the stone floor. The pain ate at her memories, consuming any hope of rescue or escape from this new life into old memories. It seemed as though this had been her entire existence, as though there had only ever been this cycle of pain and terror.

Her one saving grace was Wells. When she was in his arms, she felt safe. With him she could finally tell what was real, she knew she was with him and she could hear his heart beat and feel him breathe and ground herself. Wells anchored her to who she used to be and she drew strength from that connection to her past.

\---------------------------------------------

Perhaps it was naive of her to think any comfort could last. The endless cycle was broken one day when, instead of dragging her to the torture chamber, Wolf-eyes led her into the throne room. Once there, two guards came up behind her affixed a rope attached to her bound wrist to a stone ring set into the floor right before the dais and then gripped by arms to hold her in place.

"Well, have you broken her yet?" The Queen demanded, addressing Wolf-eyes.

"I am afraid to report that she has proven far more resistant to my methods than any human I have worked with before," Wolf-eyes replied, fear evident in her deep bow to the Queen and the tension in the line of her shoulders.

"What good is she to me unbroken?" the Queen seethed, "I cannot use her as a slave until her will is crushed! And if she will not serve me, then what use is she?"

"There is one thing I have yet to try, my Queen," Wolf-eyes implored, "I have noticed she is quite attached to the human boy captured with her. Perhaps we can use that. After all, what could is a strong will when she has nothing left to be strong for? If I may..."

Wolf-eyes looked to the Queen for permission and the Queen waved her to come closer. She leaned down beside the Queen's ear and spoke too softly for Klark to hear. Dread curdled in her stomach at the mention of Wells. She had hoped that Wolf-eyes would be too distracted by her continued defiance to inflict the same torment on Wells. Apparently, the Fae had not before considered that inflicting pain on someone she cared for would break her faster than anything they did to her own body and mind. They seemed to understand little of what drove Klark to care for and protect others. They cared only for themselves did not seem capable of anything so emotional as love or attachment. Klark hadn't realized the importance of that lack in understanding until is was too late.

Wolf-eyes finished speaking softly to the Queen and motioning for the guard to fetch Wells. Klark forced herself to straighten her spine and steel herself against the creeping fear threatening to overtake her. The doors boomed open again as two more guards strode in with a struggling Wells between them. They carried him effortlessly into the throne room and bound his wrists and ankles to stone anchors in the floor that Klark hadn't noticed before. They stepped back into place around the throne and waited.

"If we cannot break your spirit, then we will have to settle for shattering your heart," the Queen announced, eyes boring into Klark.

Klark refused to be cowed. She stood before the Queen with hatred on her face to mask the panic and confusion roiling inside her mind.

It wasn’t until she heard strange yipping and baying echo through the halls that her brave facade cracked. She broke eye contact with her enemy and turned towards the entrance to the room. The Queen relaxed back against the throne, hands steepled together before her and a satisfied smile on her lips.

The baying and yipping grew louder and louder; all at once shapes burst through the door, heading straight for Wells’ helpless body. Klark's first impression was that of wolves, but their shape wasn’t quite right, they were too long and gaunt with whip-like tails and exaggerated claws. They flowed like shadow, black forms distorted and indistinct except for the sharpness of their claws and glistening teeth. Their ears stood straight and narrow from their heads and their eyes seemed to bleed sickly pale light. Their tongues looked obscenely red in the black of their mouths. They gnashed their jaws and scratched furiously at the floor, desperate to tear into Wells, but impeded by some unseeable barrier. The Queen locked gazes with Klark once more before twisting her hand and dropping the magical barrier.

The hounds surged forward in glee, yipping and baying replaced by snarling and snapping teeth. Wells’ shrieks of agony rose over the cacophony with harrowing clarity. _No, no, no no no nonononoNONONONONO NOOO!_ Klark’s mind shrieked along with him, _it has to be another hallucination. This can’t be real. This can’t be real, this can’t be real this can’t be real thiscan’tberealthiscan’tberealthisCAN’TBEREAL._ Klark begged and screamed and cried in horror as the hounds ripped Wells apart. His blood splattered across the granite floor, contrasting morbidly with the beauty of the silver veins.

But it wasn’t over. Even as Wells’ screams died off, the guards dragged out the children. Klark fought as she never had before. She nearly dislocated her wrists and shoulders wrenching against the restraints, skin rubbed raw and bleeding by the rough bark of the flexible roots, muscles and tendons straining to breaking point against the immovable grasp of her guards. Tris looked at her with tears streaming from red, puffy eyes. Ethan, Zoran, and Artigas tried to be strong and comfort the three girls but it was clear they were shaking and more than one had wet themselves. Adria and Charlotte clung to each other and blubbered in terror at the bloody, unrecognizable remains in front of them. The guards roughly tossed them into the center of the throne room. Almost in unison, the now-gory muzzles of the hounds turned to fixate on the small, trembling children.

The Queen, her smile growing, waved her hand once more. Again the hounds took off, scrabbling for purchase against the smooth stone floor towards the innocent kids. Clark wailed so loud she felt something _break_ in her throat and no sound issued forth. The hounds raced after the children as the guards let them run free, away from the nightmares chasing them. They caught up to Charlotte first, pouncing upon her like a rushing tide. Red erupted as the hounds ripped her limb from limb. Artigas looked back and tumbled over his feet as he lost balance. His screams quickly cut off as a hound ripped out his throat. His hands scrabbled at the blood gushing from his throat as he sank down, stilling only when he was facedown on the floor. Ethan, poor blessedly brave Ethan, halted his flight and rounded on the hounds, trying to come to Artigas’ defense. He got in one good blow to a hound’s muzzle before his arm was no longer attached to his body. Blood spewed out from the stump of the shoulder. He fell to his knees and was quickly overwhelmed. Adria slumped over in shock at seeing her sibling’s gruesome demise and then she too was gone. Zoran sprinted behind one of the courtiers in an attempt to hide. The courtier merely grabbed him by the hair and tossed him into the throng of the hounds. Tris was the only child who attempted to flee towards Klark. She was only a finger's length away from Klark’s outstretched hand when a hound caught her by the ankle and yanked her back. Klark thumped to her knees then to her stomach, following Tris down to the floor. Tris never broke eye contact with Klark the whole time she was being ripped to shreds. Klark lay sprawled on the ground, hands reached out desperately towards Tris’ limp body and dead eyes frozen wide in horror, weeping soundlessly and splattered in the blood of those she had cared so deeply for. 

Vaguely, she heard the cackling laughter of the Queen behind her. She faintly sensed the sadistic grin of Wolf-eyes as she was dragged back up to her feet. Her legs refused to hold her upright and she collapsed back against the grip of the guards, mind and body immobilized in shock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to yell at me for being a horrible person, feel free to do so in the comments ;). For those of you who need some fluff to cheer you up, here's a link to a fluffy one-shot where Clarke and Lexa meet at a party: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18771226?show_comments=true&view_full_work=false#comment_294456634
> 
> The fic is called Not That Different by SkyyKing.


	5. The Commander of Fire and Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klark gets her revenge with some unexpected help. Shit goes dooooown y'all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the last chapter I have planned for this fic! Let me know if you guys would like an epilogue or if I should keep this as it is. Enjoy!

Klark didn’t know how she got back to her cell and didn’t care. Her body rocked back and forth in a ball as her mind replayed the grisly scene from the throne room. She was plagued by the screams of her best friend, innocent children crying for help, crying for _Klark_. They thought Klark would save them. She failed. She failed and they were all _dead_.

_It’s just another hallucination; it’s just another hallucination; it’s just another hallucination; it’s not real, it’s not real_ , she clung to these thoughts. They were her only remaining lifeline linking her to sanity. _Any moment now I’m going to come out of it and Wolf-eyes is going be standing in front of me and is going to torture me when I don’t answer her questions_. She never thought she would wish for the pain of Wolf-eyes’ blades. But if she could just feel the pain of a blade slicing her skin, it would mean that this reality was just an illusion, that none of what had happened was real.

Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, she rocked; eyes glued sightlessly to the wall in front of her. Without realizing it, her rocking slowly stilled and she drifted off to sleep.

The truth of her situation didn’t hit her until she woke up to an empty cell. No more Wells’ soft voice hushing her fears; no more Wells’ warm hands soothing circles against the skin of her back; no more warmth of Wells’ body as they curled together to block out the terror. It all really happened. Wells was dead. Tris was dead. Artigas, Ethan, Zoran, Charlotte, Adria. All dead. All ripped to pieces until bloody smears on silver-veined floors were all that remained.

Tears once more streamed down her cheeks, leaving clean trails in the blood staining her face. They had done it. The Queen had finally broken her. She had nothing left. She was empty. She no longer had any reason to continue, no one left to be strong for. There couldn’t possibly be anything left to fear anymore. All that remained inside her was hollow despair. Back slumped against the wall, Klark gave up.

\--------------------------------------

“Hello,” a small, clear voice called out to her.

Klark looked up from her fetal position to see a young girl in a yellow sundress, dirty bare feet poking out underneath, strawberry-blonde curls framing a petite child’s face. Grass-green eyes peered at her curiously. Klark tried to speak, only to grimace at the painful rasp of her throat. Clearing her throat, she tried again.

“He-hello. Not to be rude, but are you real?” Klark croaked. She wasn’t surprised that she’d started hallucinating without Wolf-eyes’ potions. It’s only to be expected when one falls into madness.

The girl giggled and nodded her head. She stepped closer to Klark and crouched down a foot away, hugging her knees.

“My name’s Tilly.”

“I’m Klark.”

“I know that, silly! I know all about you,” she grinned impishly at Klark’s obvious confusion.

“How could you possibly know about me? I’ve never seen you before. Who are you?”

“Right now I call myself Tilly, but I guess you might know me better as Underhill.”

“Underhill? Am I supposed to know what that is?” Klark questioned.

“Oh, that’s right. I forgot that these rude nasty Fae didn’t tell you anything. This, all around you, is Underhill. Underhill is where all the Fae come from! I made them; well, I made some of them and then they made more. They used to be so much fun to play with! But now they’re all grumpy and it’s like they don’t even care about me anymore,” Tilly pouted.

This really wasn’t clarifying anything for Klark.

“So, wait, you’re a...place? I thought you were a little girl.”

“Why pick just one when you can be both? I am all of the realm that is called Underhill; I control everything that happens around here, from the weather to the landscape. You can play some wonderful games when a snap of your fingers can literally drop the floor out from under someone!” Tilly giggled nastily, the sound completely at odds with her innocent childlike appearance, “Whenever I get bored, I like to take part in things more personally. Aren’t I adorable?” she asked, standing up to twirl in place so her sundress flared out prettily, “You would be amazed at the things people do when they think you’re just a little girl! But these spoiled Fae refuse to play my games anymore.”

Klark nodded along slowly, deciding to go along with what was obviously some twisted apparition from her subconscious. 

“Soooooo, will you play with me? If you do, I promise I can help you get rid of these horrible bullies,” Tilly said waggling her eyebrows mischievously. 

“How can _you_ help me? And why would you want to?” Klark didn’t let the hope starting in her chest blossom any further. No one could help her now.

“Well, you see, I made friends with the little ones that came here with you. They were much more entertaining than anything else around here. But those meanie Fae broke all of my new toys! And they didn’t even ask me first,” the indignation in Tilly’s eyes was anything but childlike, making Klark shudder, “You liked them too, didn’t you? So, I can give you some help teaching those nasties a lesson.”

“How? I’m just human. How is your Fae magic supposed to help me?”

“Who said anything about me having only Fae magic? I’m a god here, I can do whatever I want. I’ve been wanting to try something for a while and you seem like the perfect guinea pig.”

“Okay, do it.” Klark stated firmly, not bothering to ask any questions. She had nothing else to lose. Who knows if this was real anyway? What did it matter if she killed herself in some mad experiment if she at least got to take some of these bastards down with her?

Tilly stood up and placed her dainty hands on either side of Klark’s head. Suddenly she felt as though she was falling into an endless abyss, spiraling into a never-ending dark. Grass-green eyes flashed in the abyss and suddenly the empty blackness roared to blazing, fiery life. Klark tried to scream as her insides seared in an inferno of light and color. Blue, white, red, orange, yellow blended together to create a masterpiece of glorious flame in her mind. She came back to herself blazing like a torch. The cold that had permeated every inch of this dank place evaporated in the waves of heat and light emanating from her body. The roots above her shriveled to nothing and fell around her as ash. Klark looked down to see herself coated with flames of blistering yellow tinged with white. Her eyes glowed with the intensity of supernovas. Unnoticed behind her, Tilly clapped her hands and cackled in glee before disappearing into the dirt walls.

Klark broke into astonished laughter as flames licked from her skin. No longer was she weak. No longer was she helpless! She slowly stood, spine straightening, head lifting. The steel returned to her resolve. If she had nothing left, then she was going to damn well take everyone else with her. She was going to burn. it. ALL. _DOWN_.

She walked forward, the wooden door bursting into flames and quickly fluttering to cinders. The guards outside her cell looked on in shock, incapable of moving to save their own lives. As Klark walked closer, leaving behind glowing orange footprints in the stone, their skin began to bubble and blister. Their flesh seared off their bones and the stench and burning hair and roasted meat flooded the corridor. Klark didn’t even register the sizzling bodies in front of her, blinded by fury and the need for vengeance. She turned down the hall, trailing her fingers along the walls and leaving grooves of fire. She slowly made her way down the familiar route to Wolf-eyes’ ‘playroom’. Sheets of fire billowed out in her wake, destroying everything it touched. It seemed as if the ground itself was screaming and shrinking from her touch. She tossed her head back and reveled in the destruction. This was only justice for what they had done.

Reaching the door of Wolf-eyes’ torture chamber, she held out a hand. She didn’t even need to make contact with the door before it was ash. She walked through, only mildly disappointed to find the room empty. Standing in the middle of the room, she flamed even hotter as she recalled every agony she had endured here, every scene of torment, every vision of death and despair, every last drop of blood she had shed. The inferno became a whirlwind, causing the walls to turn molten and began to drip to the now magma-like floor. The table holding Wolf-eyes’ torture devices disentigrated, the tools turning to slag. When Klark was satisfied that no trace of her suffering was left in the room, she made her way to the throne room.

It took her much longer to reach her next destination. She had only been there a few times and was in no state to remember how she had been brought to and from the room. She wandered for what felt like hours. Walls sagged in her wake, the stone floor bubbled and heaved in the heat. Everyone she came across fled from her. But there was no escape. She was unstoppable, the inexorable end.

Finally she arrived before the silver-etched doors. They warped in the heat of her fury and gave way with leaden thumps as the hinges keeping them upright melted. There were no guards waiting outside the doors this time. She walked through the now-deformed entrance to the Queen’s throne room. As soon as she crossed the threshold, she was assailed by a storm of ice. The Queen stood upon the dais with hands outstretched, attempting to snuff out the fires of Klark’s wrath. Klark persevered forward, one step, two steps. The cold intensified until it rivaled the emptiness of space. _Thud_. Klark fell to one knee, hands held in front to stave off the frigid bitterness. She struggled to breath through the icy blast, gasping as the very air fled from her. _Thud_. Both knees hit the ground. Klark fell forward onto her hands, attempting to gulp air into her starving lungs. Her flames died down to a mere red whisper upon her skin. Then they snuffed out completely. Klark collapsed in a heap to the floor, flopping like a fish on land amidst the bloodstains of her friends. The blinding light in her eyes dimmed, almost extinguished.

The Queen, assured now of her victory, laughed at the vision of this feeble broken girl gasping out her last breaths on her floor. 

_How dare she? How dare she laugh at me? How DARE she? HOW DARE SHE_? Visions flashed before her eyes as everything tunneled to black. She saw Artigas and Charlotte clinging to her legs and looking up at her in joy. She saw Tris sketching by the warmth of the fireplace in her home. She saw Ethan and Zoran tumble through the door as they wrestled playfully. She saw Adria sitting on a rug playing with her straw dolls. She saw Wells relaxing against green grass, basking in the sun with his eyes closed and hands behind his head. She saw her mother sitting by her bed and softly singing her to sleep. Lastly, she saw her father, bright blue eyes glinting happily as his strong, gentle hands carefully assembling the compass she still wears around her wrist. The dying spark within Klark’s blue eyes ignited back to life. She flexed and the dull red glow of her skin erupted to orange, orange flared to yellow, yellow blazing white and then beyond. A blue conflagration exploded from Klark’s body, lifting her to hang suspended in the air. If the Queen’s cold was the emptiness of space, then she was the fucking _SUN_.

Ripples of fire spread to lick up the terrified courtiers’ bodies, liquefying them with their heat. The blood smears on the granite floor evaporated, scoured clean. Klark’s inferno beat back the cold of the Queen’s assault as if it were a mere spring breeze. Wolf-eyes crumpled next to the throne in pain as her bones melted and her skin scorched off her body. The Queen shrieked in anger and fear as her wintery cold failed against Klark’s onslaught of fire. For the first time in her existence, the Queen felt heat against her skin. That heat flickered across her face, catching in the tendrils of her hair. Her face turned incandescent in the light of Klark’s flame as Klark drifted ever forward. Hovering before the throne of the Queen who had destroyed every last shred of her humanity, she released a torrent of flame aimed at her heart. That deluge of heat obliterated every last particle of the Queen’s form til she was nothing but atoms.

With the object of her rage finally immolated, Klark dropped to the dais. Her flames flickered out as she no longer had the drive to fuel them. Through the encroaching blackness, she thought she heard a childlike giggle. With that, her consciousness faded into the void.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry Klark is alive and well (relatively speaking). I've written a chapter or two of my main fic so far, but I probably won't post anything from it until I have everything more hammered out. I hope you enjoyed yourselves! Thank you for the kudos and for joining me on this story! Also, let me know if you guys would like any small one-shots or glimpses into what happens after here. Love you guys!! Stay safe and sane during all this COVID-19 madness <3 <3 <3

**Author's Note:**

> I've actually written this entire fic already, so I will try to post a chapter a day.


End file.
